


A Comprehensive Guide on How to Massage a Skeleton

by Caelyn



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caelyn/pseuds/Caelyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a massage therapist. Sans is his puny self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just another day at the Spa

Two years has passed since monsters had rejoined humans on the surface. It had been one of those major turn of events when someone remembers exactly what they were doing and where they found themselves upon hearing the news. For you, this world changing event had been hastily whispered in your ear in one of the warm, dimly lit hallways of the Spa you worked at. The messenger had been your best friend and fellow massage therapist, Diana.

At the time the two of you were fresh out of massage therapy school. You had met Diana in one of your entry level classes. After a few snappy jokes and witty banter you had been fast friends. Diana had landed a spot at a spa first, and after putting in a good word for you, you joined her there soon after. Two years ago the spa had been new. It was a large building tucked away from the main stretch of town. Several stories high the spa had a main lobby sitting area in the front, massage rooms on the same first floor. Steam rooms, skin therapy, and hot tubs were on the second floor. The entire place smelled faintly of fresh paint. A smell that had lasted nearly a year after you started working there despite the owners strategically placed scented candles. You and Diana had been extremely fortunate that the owner of the spa was in great need of massage therapists among other beautician professionals. Getting a spot at a spa right out of school was rare if not unheard of.

The name of the spa was called ‘Reawakening’. When Diana first told you about it you couldn’t help but make a slight noise of disapproval at the pretentiousness of the spa’s name. However, you supposed that was sort of the point of your profession. Still, you liked to think of yourself as a healer. In school you had focused primarily on medicinal massage therapy, and natural treatments to muscle and bone atrophy.

After landing the spot at 'Reawakening' you and Diana had been working there for a few months when your friend had stopped you on your way to meet a client.

“____ did you hear?” Diana had whispered in a mix of nervous delight. She placed a small pink hand on your forearm to halt you. “Remember all those old stories about monsters living underground?”

You had paused to glance at a small intricate clock on the wall behind Diana some five feet away. Your eleven o'clock was waiting for you to bring them back to a private room for a deep tissue massage. He was an older man, a former professional athlete, and he was quickly becoming one of your best clients. With your sparse client list you really couldn’t afford to keep clients waiting.

“Yeah..?” You prompted allowing a bit of urgency to color your voice. Diana raised her eyebrows at you and followed your line of site to the clock. You had told her earlier that day that you had a client coming in at that time. She looked sheepish but pressed on.

“The stories were true ____! They really do exist, and they are coming back to the surface to live among us!” Your friend gushed. Diana squeezed your arm before letting go to gesture around herself giddily. “I caught the story on TV before I came in today, isn’t that amazing?!”

You had taken a moment to consider this. It really was amazing. The news had sent a thrill down your spine. Even though the hallway was warm you shivered.

“That’s….well that really is… something…” You replied slowly. 

Your mind flittered around a few imagined possibilities as to how this would effect you, your friends, and family. You lingered on both bad and positive outcomes. Finally you decided that while it was something new, your experiences with change were usually a positive thing. Even if the change started out being uncomfortable and challenging.

“I really should watch TV more often.” You smiled kindly at your friend and had asked her to fill you in about it in more detail later. Diana had happily agreed and let you go on your way. 

‘Looks like great grandpa Al wasn’t crazy…’ You had thought to yourself, opening up the glass door that separated the lobby to the massage rooms. A large frosted lotus flower was etched in the upper center of the door, beneath it was the Spa’s name. All those old stories about monsters must have been were true, or at the very least had some truth to them.

You remember thinking that life was going to get a great deal more interesting for better, or for worse.

 

———-

It turned out that life really wasn’t any more interesting in the two years that followed. At least not yours personally anyway. The first few months after the monsters resurfaced had been a media craze. This coverage centered mostly around a small child who was usually standing next to a large, beautiful goat lady. The kid was the ambassador for the monsters. When you did have time to watch the news in between your unorthodox schedule, you grew to genuinely like the kid with each interview and news story. The child gave you hope that monsters and humanity could someday live in complete peace. Unfortunately along with hope there was also a great deal of fear, ignorance, and prejudice that came with the reemergence of monsters.

As the years progressed monsters slowly filtered into human society. They found large, more progressive, and forward thinking cities the safest place to settle down and carve out a home for themselves. For you though, your world had stayed pretty much the same. You did see the occasional monster walking down the street, their eyes downcast and expression tight with anxiety. They being all too aware of the humans around them. You had watched a documentary on Netflix about monsters back when their resurfacing was still fresh. In the documentary you had learned that humans were much stronger than monsters were. This power was how humanity had been able to banish the monsters to the underground so many years ago. Whenever you watched a monster delicately pick their was passed you, you would always try to imagine what it would feel like to be in their position. To be among creatures that were far stronger than you. Like you were constantly surrounded by large, hungry sharks. 

Brushing these dark thoughts aside you focus on the present and set about getting ready for your day at the spa. After two years of hard work you had secured a reliable list of clients. You were able to work the hours you wanted, and mostly when you wanted. You were also able to attend additional massage classes and workshops in some of your free time. 

Unfortunately, you would have even more free time on your hands than usual since you had been forced to drop a regular client from your list. Daniel, a middle aged man you had been seeing for massage sessions for about six months. At the end of your last session he had grabbed your wrist roughly. Daniel had demanded something from you that you never wanted to give him. The memory of the situation makes you shiver with disgust. The event having been only several days ago had left you with a slight tremor in your usually confident stance. Not to mention an annoying pain in your hand and wrist. Currently you wore a brace. Fortunately it wasn’t your dominant hand that had been grabbed and the damage wasn’t all that bad. Daniel had been banned from the establishment, and you had decided not to press charges. You didn’t want to have any further contact with him at all. 

Diana had thought your lack of pressing charges was foolish. You were inclined to agree with her, but fear makes people do odd and irrational things.

You pull your hair up in a messy bun, a few wayward strands escape. It’s not called a ‘messy’ bun for nothing! Picking up your concealer you smear away at the dark circles under your eyes. Sleep never came easy to you, and now it came even less so than before. Straightening your back and squaring your shoulders you give yourself a once over in the mirror. All things considered you looked pretty darn great and ready to face the day! Spinning around on your heel you exit your bedroom’s bathroom and walk towards your apartment’s front door. On your income you were able to afford a cosy place in a decent part of town. The apartment comprised of two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining area, TV area, and two bedrooms.

The walls of your apartment were a warm yellow ochre. The carpet was short and plush under bare toes. You liked to keep the lighting throughout the apartment lower than what other people would find conductive for a living space. A perk of working at a massage spa meant you were given free scented candle samples every month to test out for your massage room. You would burn them at home to try them out. These numerous candles kept your place smelling rich, spicy, and warm. 

Your building was pet friendly, had free off street parking, and a laundry mat on the first floor connected to the main lobby. After living with family and then roommates all your life, it was a welcome adjustment getting your own space and some privacy. Some might call it loneliness that drove you to an animal shelter one rainy Wednesday afternoon a year or so ago. You preferred to think of it as ‘enhancing your home with a fuzzy friend’, or at least Mr.Buttons was suppose to be your fuzzy friend… Never in your life had you met an animal that could like, or care about you less than your ornery calico cat. No matter how many cat treats you tried to bribe him with. ‘Buttons’ as you liked to call him for short, watched you suspiciously from his couch perch. He had snugly tucked himself into a ball of orange, white, and black fluff. As you approached your apartment's front door you briefly consider giving him a farewell pat. You think twice when taking in the rapid swishing of his tail. Grabbing your keys, bag, and scarf you wish your demon cat a pleasant day, and amble out the door into the snow.

————-

 

The week between Christmas and New Years was always a spectacularly busy time for Reawakening and all spa’s alike. It was when people cashed in their gift certificates that had been purchased for them by friends and loved ones over the holidays. Along with them were regulars who desired some pampering in the aftermath of all the festive preparation, dealing with relatives, and cooking holiday feasts. While this boost in business meant more money for the spa’s workers, it also made for aching hands, high stress, rushed client scheduling, and short tempers between massage therapists and beauticians alike. Today being the first day after Christmas was like Spa D-Day. 

You had to park your car much farther away from the entrance than usual due to the fullness of the building’s parking lot. Reawakening’s workers were not permitted to park in the lot if it was a busy day. Today, you parked on the street. Anxiously you check the street signs several times before deciding your car should be safe from parking tickets for the day. Locking your car you make your way to the entrance, your boots munching away on the snow. Your eyes flit around, half expecting to see Daniel lurking somewhere in-between the numerous parked cars. White plumes of steam escape your mouth as you hurry to grasp the spa’s silver front door handle. Another lotus flower is etched into the glass of this door too. Since it’s the main entrance to the spa the design is much more elaborate and the logo more pronounced. 

Quickly you push your way inside. You hesitate to stomp the snow off your boots when your eyes land on a very unusual scene at the front desk. A group of monsters has their backs to you and were talking to the receptionist…. ‘Kali’ you recall fuzzily. You were always bad with names. The group comprised of four individuals, three of them you identified as monsters while the forth was a small kid. While the monsters were dressed appropriately for the cold weather the kid was in excess. Stuffed into what looked to be three heavy scarfs, a very puffy ski jacket, snow pants, boots, and thick fuzzy striped mittens. No doubt the kid was suffocating. You notice the kid is holding the hand of a tall monster next to them. There are patches of white fur peeking between the monster’s purple winter clothes, noticeable at the back of their neck and wrists. Immediately you think of the kid monster ambassador, and the beautiful goat lady you had been seeing on TV. You shake your head at the very unlikely possibility that they would be here in your spa, and quickly dismiss it as deja vu. 

“I’m sorry, but there’s just nothing that we can do for you….people… at this time.” Kali’s strained, nasally voice carried through the lobby. Several guests bundled up in ridiculously fuzzy, white robes look over from the lounging area. They were hungry for some possible drama. “We are completely slammed and with no appointment…well, that’s just not our problem.” The receptionist finished in a snip.

You’re eyebrows draw together. That was no way to speak to anyone, let alone a group of clients. Stomping your boots off louder than necessary you unwind the soft scarf from around your neck and make your way over to the completely unnecessary escalating situation. As you approach you take in the other two monsters in the group. One was slightly shorter than the monster holding the kid's hand and was clad in sleek athletic winter wear. This monster looked female in figure. She had her long crimson hair pulled up in a ponytail. You could see that her skin was aqua green and actually not skin at all, but small delicate scales. Her arms are crossed in agitation. You pick up your pace.

The final member in the group wore a thick navy blue hoody, black basketball shorts and pink crocks. Your mouth tugs up at the unique fashion choice. The monster has their hood pulled over their head, despite being inside and the lobby’s temperature stuffy. The only way you were able to discern that this individual was in fact another monster was from the bone legs appearing out from the bottom of their shorts. That, and from their skeletal hand resting on top of the receptionists polished oak desk. The phalangeal digits rapping impatiently on the surface, making a ‘click, clacking’ noise. Kali makes a face in this monster’s direction, the ‘clacking’ gets louder in response. The skeletal monster was slightly shorter than you, the top of their head would measure up to just below your nose while the other two monsters dwarf you. 

“What seems to be the problem, Kali?” You ask conversationally, choosing to stand next to the blue hooded monster. The group, including Kali turns to look at you. 

Now that you can see their faces you had correctly identified the tall, white furred, and purple clothed monster as the goat woman from the TV. You are barley able to mask your surprise. She looks at you with a gentle expression, somewhat pinched from Kali’s rudeness. The kid holding her hand has a sweet, round face and sleepy eyes. For being stuffed into arctic gear in a hot lobby the child seemed pretty happy. Upon closer inspection you recognize them as the kid from TV, the monster ambassador! You had never met a TV personality before, let alone two at the same time! Swallowing nervously you quickly avert your eyes to the other individuals in their group. So you don't come across as being rude.

The woman with the red pony tail and green scaled skin has only one eye. The other eye is covered with a patch. She has an angular face and sharp teeth that you can just make out beyond her parted lips. She glares at you suspiciously. It is such an intense look that you nearly bump into the final member of their group. 

Startled, you look down and meet the blue hooded monster’s eyes first before you take in his facial features. White circular points of light twinkle up at you from carved out black holes. His nose is a small, sharp, upside down heart in the lower center half of his face. His mouth is set in a toothy grin. His skin is bone and while he was a skeleton, his face is round and soft looking. His figure looked soft too. His smile widens as you slowly tear your eyes away, you’ve never seen a living skeleton before. 

Kali had been saying something. Embarrassed you ask her to please repeat herself. 

“They don’t have an appointment, ____. We just can’t accommodate their lack of planning. You know how busy we are this time of the year.” Kali says, barley trying to hide her exasperation. She’s being so unbelievably rude that your blood begins to rush loud, and angry in your ears. These were people for crying out loud….well monster people… but still!

“It was poor planning -“

“What exactly are our guests trying to make an appointment for?” You interrupt Kali, your voice cold and authoritative. A voice you save for this special brand of bullshit. 

There’s a soft swooshing noise. You look up to see Diana step out from the glass door leading back to the private massage rooms. She is holding two steaming white mugs, the spa’s lotus icon is stamped smartly on their front. Your friend looks at you questioningly, and then to the group standing in front of the reception desk. Subtly, you tip your head sideways asking her to come over and assist. You and Diana were considered to be ‘founding’ staff as the two of you had come on right at Reawakening’s opening. Oddly enough this put you both in a senior position at the spa. Being a senior staff member had it’s perks, one of them being that you were high enough in the spa’s pecking order to not take shit from the receptionists. Without hesitation Diana makes her way over, still holding the mugs. Her usually warm face transforming into a more steely expression. No one had your back quite like Diana did. 

“We… were hoping for some different treatments…” The goat lady explains, her voice shy and melodic. “You see we got these gift certificates from our friend over the holidays. I would have made an appointment, but none of us have ever done this sort of thing before…” She looks at you and Kali apologetically. “I’m very sorry for the trouble…”

“No need to be sorry.” Diana says arriving behind Kali and coming to to goat woman’s defense. Kali wisely snaps her mouth closed from some poor opinion she was about to unleash. “May we please see your gift certificates? Thank you for coming in, and WE are sorry for this incredible misunderstanding.” Diana sets the two mugs down on Kali’s desk. She then reaches for the certificates the goat lady holds out for her. The group relaxes visibly, even the kid. 

“Thanks, pal.”

You jump a little at the low voice next to you, looking down you once again meet the eyes of the blue hooded skeleton. His voice was smooth and deep, not the voice you would’ve expected from a smallish skeleton. Although he wasn’t that much smaller than you. His grin looks a little more genuine. Before you can answer him Diana speaks up, you look away but still feel his eyes on you. 

“What a lovely coincidence!” Diana says loudly, her voice thick with honeyed enthusiasm. Kali looks as if she's licked a lemon. “Two of you want a deep tissue massage, and the other two want beauty treatments. A facial mask and a mani pedi?” 

“That’s right….Is that…?” The goat lady begins uncertain.

“It’s perfect! My morning client just cancelled on me! And recently ____ here has had one less client on her roster. A client that was suppose to come in this morning, but now isn’t and never will again.” Diana says darkly, you can feel the group is focusing on you. You quickly divert attention back to the situation at hand.

“And!” Your voice sounds excited not frantic you tell yourself. “Lindsey and Michael were just saying before the holidays that they were worried people weren’t going to want facials or mani pedis right after Christmas!” 

“That’s right!” Diana agrees, seamlessly flowing back in. “As a matter of fact I just ran into Lindsey, and she says that the beauty and nail department is still open for appointments this morning!” She smiles widely at the group then painfully wide at Kali. “Isn’t that just super?!” 

“Yeah…it’s great” Kali agrees lamely.

“It sure is!” The goat lady chimes in completely innocent to war waging between you, Diana, and Kali. The goat lady smiles down at the kid who beams lovingly back. 

“Kali if you would be so kind as to make a call to the beautician department upstairs? Please schedule an appointment with Lindsey and Michael for this morning, that would be greatly appreciated.” You say firmly, walking around the desk to join Diana. Diana plucks one of the two mugs off the desk and hands it to you. “Thank you kindly.” You say and she smiles back, expression not unlike how the kid’s was to the goat lady. 

You all wait patiently as the receptionist grabs the phone and stabs the keypads with her manicured nails.”Hello Michael this is Kali down at reception. Yes I hope you are having a ‘Reawakening’ day too…” Kali grumbles. “I know how busy you and Lindsey are today. I’m sure you don't have any room for more clients - …ah…mmm hm…yes I see…well that’s… delightful.” Kali gives you a look. You smile back, the expression not reaching your eyes. “I will send them right up….oh yes…you too.” The phone is dropped crassly back on the receiver.

You choose to momentarily ignore this and press on. You address the small group and say. “If you folks would be so kind as to step into our locker room? Once there you can dress yourselves in our relaxing and rejuvenating spa wear. When you are finished we will be able to take you right away.” You gesture to entryway in the back of the lounging area that lead to the locker rooms. “Diana and I will be back shortly to take the two in your group that want a deep tissue massage. Kali here will be the happy escort to our second level for those of you who are getting beauty treatments.” You finish with a flourish of your white mug, coffee sloshing around inside.

“That’s great!” The goat lady says happily. “Thank you for your assistance ____ , my name is Toriel, and this is Frisk…” Toriel gestures to the child beside her, the kid waves a small, striped gloved hand at you and Diana. “This young lady here is Undyne.” The fish woman nods at you sternly and offers a small ‘Hey’. 

“And this is-“

“Sans.” The skeleton interrupts, looking at Toriel almost apologetically. “The name’s Sans.” The stocky skeleton fixes you with a friendly expression. Sans extends a boney hand for you to shake. 

Without hesitating you reach out to grasp the offered hand. As you grasp it a shockingly loud farting noise echoes through the lobby. You could feel something vibrating and rapidly decompressing in your palm. Alarmed you try to pull away, but Sans holds on. The skeleton wraps his fingers around your hand more firmly and squeezes. His eyes sync up with yours for a moment, it feels oddly intimate. After a beat Sans lets go and holds up the boney hand you just shook, taped crudely to his palm was….a whoopee cushion. Your smile becomes strained while his grew. A few spa guests including Diana, the kid, and Undyne start laughing while other spa goers whisper disapprovingly. Kali and Toriel look mortified. 

“Thought that would tickle your funny bone.” Sans said, his voice coming out in a breathy laugh. 

“Yes, well if you would please-“ You try to defuse the embarrassing situation by indicating to the locker room once more. To your dismay Sans wasn’t quite done and he wasn’t someone to be brushed off so easily. What was the saying? Ah yes, ‘no good deed goes unpunished’. This is what you get for being a defender for what was good and righteous. 

“Don’t be like that pal. I was only trying to be humorous!” Sans cackled. He rocked back on his heels and tucking the toy away. The surrounding laughter grows louder. You gripped your mug and barley repress the urge to groan. It was too early for this shit, but you were anything if not quick on your feet. 

“Trying being the keyword there, PAL.” You shoot back with sarcasm coloring your usually professional voice. There were a few ‘OOOO’s’ from the peanut gallery. “Now if you would please..”

“Throw a guy a bone, ____. A skele-TON of carful planning and preparation went into that hand shake. No bones about it!” Sans shoulders here shaking. You could actually hear his bones rattling inside his clothing. Everything was terrible and you just wanted to drink your coffee. 

“You know whoopee cushions aren’t very hip.” You quip back, unable to help yourself. Diana was giving you an exasperated look, a few guests actually clapped. Sans looked thrilled.

“I will literally call security if you all don’t get away from my desk!” Kali shrieked. 

“That’s enough Sans!” Undone growled. She lightly smacked his upper arm. “I really need that massage!”

“She’s right, let us be on our way before we cause any more trouble…” Toriel says, looking apologetically at you and Diana. Kali continues to glare at them. You briefly entertain the idea of pouring your coffee over her head. Delicious as the coffee may be, the loss of the heavenly beverage would be worth it for justice.

“No need to be so sternum. We’re going.” Sans patted Kali’s desk as you would a dog. He then turned towards the locker room. The other three members in his group followed closely after him. You, Diana, and Kali watched them go. The spa guests that had been listening in well wished the group as they passed. Just before they disappeared through the locker room door Sans looked over his shoulder and gave you a wink. You frown back at him. He turns away, shoulders shaking and no doubt bones rattling again. 

You were just about to head back to the private massage rooms to get ready for the day when Kali stops you and Diana.

“What the hell was that, ____ and Diana?” Kali whispers vehemently so that the guests couldn’t hear her. 

“Good question that was what I was wondering myself Kali.” Diana cuts in smoothly. “On what planet did you come from where it was ok to treat people that way?”

Kali sputters, her face turning red and blotchy. “People? PEOPLE?! Those aren’t people!” Her voice pitches up a painful octave. The spa guests were looking over again. You were at the end of your patience. 

“That’s ENOUGH, Kali.” You say loudly. If there was anyone left in that lobby who hadn’t been looking over before they sure were now. “If I ever hear, or see you being rude to another guest again human or monster, then I can promise you will be out of here so fast that it will make your little head spin.” 

Kali’s mouth gapes open and closes a few times, eyes wide and disbelieving. She looked like a very manicured carp.

“There are plenty of very nice, and polite people who would love your job.” You say and don’t break eye contact with Kali for a long handful of seconds. Someone sniggers in the lounge area. “Moving forward please treat all of our guests with the respect and courtesy you would expect and want for yourself. It’s actually really simple.”

“I’m not-“ Kali begins slowly, but you cut her off.

“When our guests come out from the locker room please show the two of them that want beauty treatments to our second floor. Have the other two wait here for Diana and I.” You instruct. Kali looks to Diana for help.

“Think you can handle that?” Diana asks, taking a long swig of her coffee. Kali looks at the two of you in a mix of bewilderment and rage. Finally she relents.

“Yes…. I can handle that.” Kali says slowly. Her face scrunches up a bit as if the words taste bad. 

“Goody.” You say, and like Sans you give the desk a friendly pat. One of Kali’s gel pens skitters across the desk when you do. “Shall we?” You ask, smiling at Diana.

“We shall!” She chirps, and just like that the two of you are off across the lobby to the massage section of the spa. 

You take a long sip of your coffee, your boots clopping across the polished white marble floors. Diana’s pumps echo alongside you. The coffee is rich and delicious. Diana presses a hand to the glass door leading back to the massage rooms, you thank her as you pass through. This part of the spa is dimly lit and uncomfortably warm. The air is thick with the coiling smells of citrusy massage oils. Your footfalls become muffled against the plush carpet as the two of you walk back to the employee area. The small room was empty as you entered. 

“So what was all that about?” Diana asks, tugging open her locker. Gingerly she sets her coffee mug on the bottom of the locker before pulling out a blue hair tie. She fixes you with a questioning look. Her fingers start pulling her short curly black hair up into a pony tail. 

“I’m afraid you will have to be a little more specific.” You reply smoothly. You set down your own mug on the bottom of your locker too. Tugging at the snaps of your arm brace you struggle to get it to release. 

“That out there, sticking your neck out and riling up Kali.” Diana says. She makes her way over to the small mirror by the entryway to smooth out the hair bumps on the crown of her head. “That wasn’t like you…not that it’s a bad thing. Just not really your style…” 

You shrug. “I just didn’t like the way she was talking to those..monster people.”

“That’s not your problem you know.” Diana’s green eyes meet yours in the mirror. Her nails run over her hair bumps and effortlessly smoothes them out. 

“I know.” You say, finally getting the brace off. Breaking eye contact with your friend you massage your wrist tenderly. “It just really bothered me….” 

“Yeah that was pretty shitty.” Diana agrees. She turns to face you and places her hands on her wide hips. “You ready to get your smash on?!” She declares letting the subject drop. 

You laugh. “You mean get to work?” 

“Same smell different nostril.” Diana shoots back. “How many appointments do you have today?”

“Now six with our new monster friends.” You answer. Plucking back up the coffee mug, you chug the rest of it and let out an appreciative sigh. “Thank you for this by the way.” You wiggle the mug back and forth for Diana to see.

“Don’t mention t it.” Diana grins.

“Alright then I won’t!” You chuckle and shut the locker door.

————-

It had taken another ten minutes to get your massage room ready. You had to replace the massage table's soft white sheets with fresh ones, plug in your ipod to play relaxing instrumental music, and carefully lay out your selection of massage oils for the client to choose from. Just before you left the room, you switched on the massage table’s heater. When your client laid down on top of the bed they would be nice and toasty. Satisfied, you set out to collect the monster who wanted a deep tissue massage. You weren’t sure who your client would be out of the group. One of them would be the muscular fish woman, Undyne. As for the other individual you had no idea. Your mind settled on Toriel. With her tired eyes and hunched shoulders a relaxing massage would do her a world of good. 

Diana was waiting for you outside her own massage room. Her room was just down the hall from your own. She was absently stretching out her hands, warming up for a long day. You greet her and the two of you head back out to the main lobby. Your bad wrist twinges unpleasantly. Ignoring it, you push open the glass door to the lobby. Since the two of you had left, about a dozen more guests has filtered in from the chilly outside. About half of them were lingering by the reception desk and the rest were either meandering toward the locker room, or sitting in the lounge area. You spot Diana's and your clients immediately. The pair sticking out like a sore thumb clad in fuzzy, white robes and even fuzzier slippers. 

A part of you isn’t surprised to see that Sans is sitting with Undyne in the lounging area, patiently waiting for a massage. Toriel and Frisk were no where to be found. They must have been the facial and the mani pedi appointments. Even with your extremely limited experience with the skeleton monster, this was a ridiculous enough of a situation for Sans to want to partake in. The ridiculousness in that Sans simply had nothing to massage to speak of. No soft tissue to knead, or muscle knots to work out. The pair were reclining in the spa’s renowned relaxing chairs. They had opted for the seats closest to large bay windows on the far side of the sitting area. From beyond the windows snow had begun to fall outside in fat swirling pieces. Undyne was watching the falling snow with interest, slippered feet kicked up on the arm of another empty lounge chair near by. Sans was thumbing through a Cosmopolitan magazine he probably snagged from the lounge’s center coffee table, or off of Kali’s desk. 

“I call the hot one.” Diana whispered in your ear making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at her in a silent question as to which one she considered to be the ‘hot one’. She answers your question by calling out Undyne’s name. 

‘Oh joy.’ You think to yourself as the two look up at Diana and then to you. This means you were left with….

“Sans…” You call out, voice not as sure as Diana’s had been. Sans eyes twinkle at you, his relaxed grin turning mischievous.

“Trade you?” You whisper to Diana franticly.

She giggles under her breath to keep anyone from overhearing. “And deprive you of a bonding experience with your new bone buddy? I wouldn’t dream of it!” With that Diana leaves you to meet Undyne halfway across the lobby. You can’t help but feel betrayed. 

Sans is slower to get up and make his way to you. The skeleton first stretches comically like a cat. Then he painstakingly scootches off of his plush chair and onto his feet. Diana and Undyne pass you and head back into the massage area. You fight the urge to glare at your friend when she glides by. Sans carefully dog ears the Cosmopolitan on the page he had been on, tucks it under his arm and instead of heading your way he strolls over to Kali’s desk. You watch as he slides the magazine on the far side of the desk. Kali was on the phone and is unable to comment, but if looks could kill… To add insult to injury Sans winks at her before sauntering away. Still on the phone Kali snatches the magazine, yanks open her drawer and stuffs it roughly inside. You wonder how Sans had come into possession of it since you hadn’t seen the magazine on her desk earlier when you all were sanding right next to her. In fact you knew that Kali always keeps her precious Cosmos in her desk drawer under lock and key.

“Have a good read did you?” You ask once Sans draws close.

“Sure did. I now know 101 ways to sexually please my boyfriend.” He offers casually, smoothing out the front of his robe. “Would you like to hear a few?” He asks. The pinpricks of light he has for pupils fix intently on you. 

You smother down the impulse to blush, and reply back smoothly instead. “No thanks, I’ve never had any trouble in that department.” 

“I’m sure you haven’t.” Sans returns just as silkily. The blush you had been beating back overtakes your face and neck. Sans chuckles deeply.

This was going to be a long session….


	2. A Boney Massage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for the wonderful comments and thoughtful kudos! You are a delight, and deserve a plate of Papyrus's best, most silken spaghetti!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next chapter thank you for reading! :)

Face a lovely cherry hue, you shove open the glass door leading to the massage section of the spa where Diana and Undyne had just disappeared into. Sans gives you an innocent smile as he strolls on through. Curtly, you follow him in and take the lead. He says nothing as you stride past him. You take several deep breaths, guiding Sans back to where your room was at the far end of the hall. Subtly you press your cool hands to you cheeks and neck. Willing the blush to GO AWAY. You are so fucking thankful Sans doesn’t say anything about your erratic behavior, or attempt to rile you up any further. Another small blessing was that no one was in the hallway but the two of you. No one else would see your ridiculous beet red face and blotchy neck. Besides the soft music playing over the main sound system, and the soft swishing noises of Sans slippered feet pattering along behind you, it was really quiet. All of your fellow massage therapist’s had signs hanging from the handles of their doors politely asking that the person passing by to ‘please, PLEASE be quiet!’ These doors were on both sides of the long hallway, all of them shut, and watching silently as the two of you slipped by. After cooling off a tad, you chance glancing over you shoulder to check on the saucy skeleton. You catch Sans eyeing one of the ‘please be quite’ signs with a little too much interest. 

“Don’t mess with those please.” You say, voice hardly above a whisper. You were trying to be respectful of your fellow massage therapists. The ‘please’ at the end of your request sounded tacked on and insincere.

“I wasn’t gonna.” Sans says defensively. Quickly he pulls his hand back from where it had been reaching towards the sign. Your eye twitches.

“Those are important for people passing by to know not to make a ruckus.” You explain. Secretly you are all too relieved to have a subject to distract you from thinking about Sans blatant flirting a few moments ago. Sans hums in reply. His gaze still locked longingly on the signs as the two of you continue on. If anything, your explanation had added more interest to his gaze. After awhile and against your better judgement your curiosity gets the better of you. “Why do you want one anyway?”

You both had come to stop in front of your door. Sans shrugs. “My brother is really loud really early in the morning.” He keeps his voice pitched low mimicking your own. This causes the sound of his voice to come out deeper and more throaty than his usual pitch. Unconsciously you lick your lips. Sans watches the movement closely. You think you catch his white pupils dilate slightly. Painstakingly you count out a few deep breaths in time with the ‘tick tock’ing of the clock on the wall to the left of you.

“And you think a sign…would stop him?” You ask doubtfully. It seemed unlikely that a ‘please shut the hell up’ sign would give pause to such an individual.

“What can I say? The guy respects his signs.” The skeleton replies. The carpet rasps under the shuffling of his slippered feet.

You turn slightly to open your door. As the door glides inward you slip your own ‘Quiet Please’ sign from the handle and hold it out to Sans. He looks at it ,and then to you perplexed. After a beat realization lightens his eyes, or rather eye sockets.

“Say…____ you don’t need to do that…” He murmurs not moving to take the little rectangular sign. 

“I know I don’t, but if it might help protect you from your rowdy brother then you should have it.” You purposefully relax your expression, and give him a small genuine smile. Maybe a token of good will could get your shaky start with Sans back on track. Even though coming to his and his friend’s rescue in the lobby should have done the trick….

Sans eyes dart rapidly over your face gaging your sincerity. After a short while he looks satisfied and reaches to take the sign from you. Accidentally, Sans bumps your bad wrist. It was your own fault for being so carless as to use your bum hand. Unable to mask your pain you flinch when his fingers jar the joint. Sans immediately draws back as if the touch had hurt him instead. The offered sign glides down to the floor soundlessly. You wrap your good hand around your bad wrist and begin to knead it. Sans face changes from one of slight hurt to concern. His initial expression catches you off guard. You piece together that he must’ve thought you’d been repelled that he touched you. Hurriedly you explain yourself.

“Sorry about that.” You murmur. Ever mindful of the loudness of your voice. The two of you were still standing out in the hallway, and had yet to walk through your open door. “It’s this stupid wrist…. It’s pretty tender right now…” You unwrap your fingers and let Sans have a closer look. He eyes you again searchingly before frowning down at the offending wrist. He brings his hands up. The phalanges slightly open, but not quite touching your bruised flesh.

“Seems like someone in your line of work ought to be more carful with their hands.” A few boney fingers skim feather light over the bruised flesh on the pinky side of your hand. The touch just above the most painful part of your injured wrist. You shiver. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant…just intense.

“I am.” You reply, pulling your wrist away from his cool fingertips. Sans own hands fall away to disappear into his robe pockets. His expression smooths back out into it’s usual lackadaisical grin. 

You crouch down and puck the sign up off of the floor, and use it to wave the skeleton inside. Without further ado Sans shuffles his way in, following closely behind you let the heavy wooden door close with a soft ‘click’ behind you. You set the sign down on the long marble counter running parallel to the massage bed. You will give it to him at the end of the session. Upon setting the room up earlier, you had drawn the heavy, chocolate colored curtains over the room’s large ceiling to floor window. The window was on the wall directly behind the top of the massage bed, and across from the door. With the curtains closed the room was shrouded in dim light. With it being such a dreary day outside, it made the room even darker than it was usually when the curtains were closed. The only additional light source was from several large, vanilla and jasmine scented candles you had lit before heading out to collect Sans. 

Your massage room was small. This was the case for most of Reawakening’s massage rooms, minus the larger ones reserved for couples massage. However small as it may be, your room was cozy and tastefully decorated. The spa left it up to the individual massage therapist as to how they decorated their own space. It was one of your favorite aspects of your job among many other things. You had decorated your room in colors of deep chocolates, creamy yellows, and warm whites. These colors were present in the window curtains, wall paint, candles, and on the pots of several leafy plants around the room. Just like all massage rooms, yours came standard with a large massage bed complete with a built in heater, and soft sheets. Also, standard to the room was a long marble counter with cabinets underneath, a sink in the far corner, and small oven where you could heat up smooth, black massaging stones. You had brought in your ihome speaker from your apartment so that you could make your workspace even more personalized. You liked to time yourself and work through music. Reawakening’s standard playlist got old after the first week you started working there. 

“Nice digs.” Sans whistles appreciatively. His head turning this way and that as he looked around. The dimness of the room made the little white lights in the black pits of his eyes stand out like glowing embers. 

“Thank you.” You reply. Lightly you rest your good hand on top of the massage table, gaging if the bed’s internal heater had worked it’s magic. To your satisfaction it had.

Sans watches with interest as you take your hand away from the center of the bed. A little divot was left behind from where you had disturbed the sheets. Sans saunters over to the opposite side of the bed, and places his own boney hand right where yours had been. Testing the waters himself. His face melts in delight at the delicious warmth he finds there. The small act was oddly endearing. To your annoyance a little hook lodges itself behind your diaphragm and gives a little tug. You cough lightly to dislodge the feeling, and to draw the skeleton’s attention.

“I’m going to step out while you get under the sheets. Please disrobe to your level of comfort before you do so.” You explain. You had made this same instruction thousands of times before with numerous clients. 

“Disrobe to my ‘comfort level’?” Sans repeats smirking at you. Well, as much as a skeleton can smirk with no lips. 

“I will be back in a few minutes.” You continue pointedly ignoring his smarmy reply. ‘Just gotta stick this out for one measly hour’. You think desperately yourself.

“What if I’m not comfortable with any kind of ‘disrobing’?” Sans asks. His voice dripping with false innocence. “After all, I’m nothing but bones under here. Makes a guy feel awfully self conscience you know.”

In response to his sass you slap on your best professional mask and chirp back sarcastically. “I leave that to your own digression sir! Here at Reawakening we want you to be your very best, most comfortable self.” 

Sans frowns at you. “Call me Sans.” 

“Will do Mr. Sans! Please lay facing up if that’s ‘comfortable’ enough for you.” You say sweetly. Sans looks frustrated. ‘Good.’ you think. ‘See here you puny bastard I can be a little shit too!’ You don’t allow him a chance to volley anything back. You slide out the door and let it close behind you. 

The hallway was still barren of any life save for a potted lavender flower on a small, black table to the right of your door. With a sigh you start carefully stretching out your hands. Beginning with your dominant hand. You carefully pull your thumb back, counting slowly to ten before going to the next digit. After you did all your fingers, you flex your hand a dozen times. You extend, spreading your fingers until you feel a good stretch. Then, you collapsed the fingers to form a loose fist. Tucking your thumb behind the other four so that they wrap around it lightly. You move your hand up and down as if you were revving a motorcycle. When you finish with your good hand, you start much more gingerly with you bad one. You take it as slow and easy as possible. All the while your bad wrist twinges unpleasantly. Looking down at the aching appendage you silently curse Daniel under your breath for what must be the hundredth time. Today and several days to follow were going to be challenging. An injury to an arm, hand or wrist was profoundly detrimental to massage therapists. Hands were the bread and butter for making your living. 

Thoroughly stretched out and your hands as limber as they were going to get, you knock lightly on the door. Sans gives a soft ‘come on in’ from within the room. Quietly you open up the door and slip inside. Surprisingly Sans was indeed laying face up on the massage bed just as you had asked him to do. After all his teasing about undressing he had also complied in taking off his fuzzy white robe and had hung it up carefully on the wall hook next to the door. His slippers were peeking out from beneath the table. The skeleton must have pushed them under there as far as they would go so as that you wouldn’t trip on them you guessed. 

‘How mildly considerate…’ You grouse to yourself, stepping further into the vanilla fragrant room.

Sans had pulled the sheets up to just beneath his chin. His arms were exposed above, folded neatly so that his boney palms could pillow his head. Why he was using his hands for a cushion you couldn’t guess. The bed’s surface was plush and probably much more comfortable than his hard hands. His firefly pupils land on you and you walk in. His face is closed off and sweat was beginning to bead along the smooth, white crown of his forehead.

‘Ah, that explains the devil may care pose.’ You muse, raising your eyebrows and lifting a corner of your lips at him. He blinks a few times, and does his best to return your easy expression. 

“Is this your first time getting a massage?” You ask smoothly. You can already guess his answer. 

“Nope.” Sans shoots back a little too quickly. “I get them once a month. Sometimes twice if I’m feeling particularly snazzy.”

You turn your back to him and make your way over to the small sink in the corner of the room. “Uh huh.” You reply conversationally. Rolling your eyes heavenward. You begin washing your hands with soap. The water turned up as hot as you can stand. The heat was for warming up your chilly hands. Cold hands made for cold clients and unpleasant massages. “Sounds expensive.” You say, hands begin to turn pink under the steamy spray.

“Nothing’s too good for this numbskull.” A hollow tapping sound echoes through the room. Sans must have rapped his knuckles against the side of his head. That seems like something he would do.

Pulling out a soft hand towel from the sink’s drawer, you turn back around. Sans now has his hands over his sheet covered chest. He is staring blankly up at the ceiling, seemingly counting the three vertical wooden beams above him over and over again. His boney fingers fidget and pick at one another. Meticulously you dry your hands. You had clients in the past who were nervous about getting a massage for the first time. Being touched by a stranger wasn’t something many people took lightly. However, none had expressed this anxiety so openly before. You pad softly over the the side of the massage bed, coming to stop right next to Sans head. Sans eyes snap from their critical observation of the ceiling and on to you. That tugging feeling is back. It makes you soften a little.

“Sans.” You say. “As experienced as you may be with massages…” This is highly unlikely, but you decide to humor him anyway. “We will go slow. As you are my first….skeleton client, I ask that you let me know immediately if you want me to to stop, or to be more gentle.” 

Sans face relaxes greatly. He looks like himself again. “That….sounds good, pal.”

“Good.” You repeat back. “This is your time. I want you to get as much out of this as you can.” You make a point to hold his eyes for a long moment to clearly show your earnestness. You then turn slightly to reach over to your ihome and select a playlist. You think you hear him mumble a very soft ‘thank you’, but that could’ve just been wishful thinking. 

The music begins to swell and fill up the small room. You give both your hands one last warm up stretch. Grasping a small, blue bottle of citrusy massage oil, you turn back around. It had been fortunate that your focus in school had been in medicinal massage therapy. Many of the classes had been about studying human bone and muscle anatomy. In this case you would be relying on your knowledge of proper bone alignment more than ever. You walk to the top of the massage bed, all the while Sans follows you with his eyes. He looks at the small blue bottle in your hand with equal parts suspicion and interest. You pop the bottle open and dab some of the oil on the palm of your good hand. You then rub your hands together furiously to warm them up even further, and to disperse the oil evenly on your palms before making contact with Sans. 

‘Here goes nothing…’ You think resting just your fingertips on top of Sans forehead. Usually you started with a scalp massage, and for now you were going to stick to your ritual. Pressing down slightly for more pressure you move your fingers in small to medium circles from his forehead, to his temples, and up to the top of his skull. Sans eyes almost immediately drift shut. His anxious expression smoothing out to one of bliss. His whole frame gives a little shiver. ‘There we go.’ You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’s been holding. The scalp massage continues on for a few more minutes. All the while you are pleased to see Sans relaxing more and more. The skeletal monster settles more completely into the massage table’s cushion. With Sans less tense you allow yourself to let go of your focus on making sure he was ok, to making him feel better. Despite Sans being a sharp tongued asshole, you highly doubt he came in here on a whim despite your initial misgivings.

Really, no one gets a massage because they want to be funny. Sans seemed like the type who doled out comedy as a way to hide how he really felt, or what he wanted. Carefully you guide his head to rest on it’s side. You then push the sheets down so that you could expose his upper torso. Sans finches, but doesn’t say, or do anything to stop you. You let a moment tick by for him to adjust to this new venerability. This also gives you time to inspect the damage. However, ’damage’ might be too light a word… From what little you would see of his skeletal structure, the poor guy was a mess of severely poor aligned bones, and clashing vertebrae. It would seem that you were right about his motives for coming in. You had dealt with bad cases before. Ruined athletes, atrophying elderly, and even car crash victims. All of which had badly aligned bones and clusters of knots instead of muscles. The only difference with Sans was that you would be able to cut right to the chase, and bypass easing the soft tissue so that it was malleable enough to align the bones.

“This looks painful.” You murmur, voice low so as not to startle him. “You’ve been through a lot.” It’s a statement not a question. 

Sans slowly opens his eyes and looks at you. For once he doesn’t say anything. 

“Remember what I said. If something hurts you’ll-“

“Speak up.” Sans finishes gruffly. His eyes slide shut again, a silent confirmation to continue. 

“That’s right.” You agree softly. 

To truly begin you start with San’s clavicle and right shoulder. You run your fingers over the smooth white bones, feeling for the telltale give so that you could press them back into alignment. After several passes of your nimble hands the bones eventually relent to your will and click back into place. The process is similar to how stubborn muscle relent. Patiently, you guide the bone segments deftly back to where they were suppose to be. Sans lets out a relieved sigh. You smile at your first victory. As you deftly continue to the front of his neck vertebrae you begin to notice a warm tingly feeling working it’s way into the tips of your fingers. You choose to ignore it and focus instead on carefully lining up Sans seven cervical vertebrae back into their proper place. However, the odd feeling slowly and unrelentingly grows stronger. The sensation flaring up to travel into your palms and across the back of your hands. 

For a brief hysterical moment you wonder if this intense tingling feeling marked the beginning of a heart attack, or a stoke. Being so young it seems highly unlikely…. Even so, as the sensation intensifies and grows rapidly you can’t help but yank your fingers away. San’s eyes sleepily slide back open. He watches as you jerkily inspect your hands and rub at your oil slicked finger tips. 

Feeling his eyes on you; you stammer out. “Sor…sorry..My hands… they are…they…were…” The feeling is rapidly fading away. Sans sighs.

“Sorry I should’ve warned you about that. I wasn’t sure if it was going to effect you, or not.” He says watching you intently. “Sometimes humans don’t notice it. It might be because they are less sensitive.” He muses more to himself than to you.

“Wh…what?” The sensation had completely dissipated. However, it had left your hands feeling tingly and sensitive. 

“Magic.” Sans says as if that explained everything.

“Magic….” You repeat back dumbly. You bring your fingers closer to your face to see if you could make out what he was talking about.

Sans continues to watch you, less sleepily than before. “Monsters are made mostly of magic.” He goes on.

“Ok…..so?” Giving up on being able to physically see what Sans was going on about, you let your hands drop to your sides. 

“So, when you touch us…. especially if it’s over a long period of time….sometimes you can feel it.” Sans explains. 

You don’t say anything for a handful of long seconds. You can’t help but bring your fingers back up to your face and inspect them once again. Eventually Sans lets out a long breath and starts to get up. Alarmed, your head snaps up.

“What are you doing?” You demand, a little harsher than you meant to. Sans isn’t looking at you. Instead he was gingerly rolling his shoulders and craning his head back and forth. Testing out your work so far you guess.

“Well I just figured we were done here.” Sans replies flatly. He still wasn’t looking at you.

“What…Why would you ‘figure’ that?” Your voice held a slight tremor within it. The sound making you angry at your lack of self control. 

“I dunno, tibia honest you look pretty razzed.” Sans shrugs. His eyes finally meeting your own. His smile was painful and disappointed. “With this whole magic thing thrown into the mix I wouldn’t think you would want to continue-”

“Well your wrong!” You snap. “You just settle your bones right the hell down, who’s the professional here?”

Sans looks at you like you had caterpillars crawling out of your ears. “Uhhh…”

“That’s right! I’m the professional.” You gesture grandly from your face to your torso to really drive the point home. “Don’t assume all humans can’t handle your…. mojo!” Ok. Well that sounded the very opposite of professional. But you really didn’t want him to leave. Not when his body was in such desperate need of help. Tingly fingers be damned.

“My… mojo…?” Sans asked slowly. He looks dazed. You take the opportunity to guide him back down. Pointedly, you place your hand on top of his bare shoulder. Sans lets you press him back slowly. He stares at your hand on his shoulder. 

“Your magic…. I mean. I can handle it.” Your voice leaving no room for argument. The sound of it gives you comfort. ‘Fake it till you make it’. You think to yourself. “I mean….It’s not going to…It won’t…I mean…”

“Hurt you?” Sans finishes. 

You feel guilty, but you don’t stop him from finishing your thought. 

“No. It won’t hurt you.” Sans shrugs his shoulder again, the movement forcing his bones to press more firmly into your palm. You can feel the tingly feeling worming it’s way into your skin again. Focus on it for a time you conclude that it is in fact, not hurting you. 

“Ok.” You say eventually.

“Ok.” He replies. “Are you-“

“Sure. Yes I am sure.” You force your shoulders to relax, going back to work where you left off. 

Tentatively your hands side to the other boney shoulder to work your own kind of magic. After slotting several askew bones back into place Sans has relaxed once again. Your stomach twists with guilt at your reaction to his body. Well, not his body per say but, from the magic running through it. Magic must be like blood for monsters. Sans eyes drift close once more. You pocket your guilt and decide to apologize later. For now you had work to do. As the minutes tick by and the music ebbs and flows, you loose yourself in your work. Diana liked to call it ‘the massage zone’ and there really was no better way to describe it. It was a very big reason why you loved massage therapy so much. For a brief period of time you were completely outside yourself and attuned to another person. This connection was on a level you hadn’t been able to replicate in any other experience. During that time you could forget your troubles, your doubts, and even your loneliness. Working on Sans body was no different even with the initial hiccup you had over his magic.

Your hands push, align, and weave through, and along his front. Steadily you grow use to the feeling of his magic pressing into you. The sensation had wrapped itself around your fingertips, palms, wrists, and lapped its way steadily up your forearms. It was neither hot nor cold. It just was. Like an emotion, or a feeling. The most physical aspect about it was that it left the skin it coursed along feeling tingly and sensitive. The sensation similar to how a foot feels when it’s walked on after being asleep. Eventually, you can actually start to see Sans magic. Not on you, but within, and pulsating off of San’s bones. It’s color a light cian blue. The magic opaque and concentrated densely inside his ribcage where his heart would be. In fact, the slowly pulsating shape inside his chest was vaguely like that of a romanticized heart shape. Like that of a Valentines Day chocolate box. As the magic heart flexed, the magic rivets around it lit up and gradated out across San’s body. The dimmest points were in Sans fingers and you suspected his toes. Although you couldn’t see them from where they tented the sheets at the end of the table. A part of you wants to reach inside the cavity of his chest and see what it felt like to run your fingers over the pulsating heart shape. If the magic there felt more intense, or different to the current running along the outside planes of his bones. However, a much larger more reasonable part of yourself says that would not only highly invasive, but could hurt Sans. So you don’t. When you finish with the front of Sans torso you draw the sheet back up to his chin, covering his chest and hiding the beautiful, little blue heart.

Next, you slide down the side of the table so that you are looking at San’s legs. Easing the white sheet over the left leg, you set to work on the alignment of his femur to his patella bone. As you slide your hands down his femur, Sans suddenly jumps slightly on the table. The action jars you out of your massage groove. Frowning you look up at him, but his face is still pointed up at the ceiling, eyes shut. Although now his eyes were pinched and rimmed with tension. When Sans doesn’t move again you chalk it up as an anomaly and busy your hands once more. Fingers gliding back along the the side of his femur, you were just about to add a little more pressure and guide the patella into place when Sans jerks again. This time he lets out a strangled laugh. 

“Sorry…That must be my funny bone…” He offers weakly still chuckling under his breath. His eyes were now open and his chin tucked to his chest so that he could see what you were doing. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Would you like me to move past it?” You ask patiently. There had been many instances where clients would writhe on your table when you came across a ticklish spot. You suppose skeleton or not, Sans would have these places too.

“No…no, that’s alright. “ He says in a rush. “While moving from our old place I jarred that knee…It really could use some TLC.”

You nod in understanding. This time you decide to keep the conversation going. Sometimes talking relaxed a ticklish client. The light banter would take their mind off of their sensitive spots so that you could work. “Moving huh? That’s a real pain. In your case, a pain in the knee.” Sans chuckles, appreciating your lame attempt at a joke. You place your hands on him again.

“Your patella-ing me!” He quips, tensions running off his face. With a ‘click’ the patella slots in perfectly with the femur. Sans lets out a little pleased groan, annoyingly your face feels hot again. You blame it on the magic.

“Oh yeah?” You ask even though you had finished up with the ticklish area. You journey downward to his fibula and tibia. 

“Yeah.” Sans says. He rests his hands over his chest again, looking back up at the ceiling. He doesn’t seem to mind that you were still talking. “This will be our…. third move in two years.” 

You hiss out a breath between your teeth. Moving three times in two years?! That was beyond stressful. Not to mention expensive! “Any particular reason for the itchy feet?” You press. Humor seemed to be the key at keeping Sans open and at ease. Speaking of feet, you grip Sans left foot with your good hand, palm wrapped around the middle underside. Your other weaker hand gently rotates the tarsus and lateral malleolus joints.

Sans blinks up at the ceiling slowly. The music weaving through the silence along with the occasional popping sounds of his joints and bones ‘clicking’ into place. He doesn’t reply for a long time. You figure you’ve pushed your luck and that he wanted to enjoy the remainder of the massage in peace and quiet. Moving onto the smaller bones in San’s feet you categorize them in your head. Running your pointer finger and thumb along them. Meticulously straightening the bones back out. ‘Metatarsus, proximal phalanx, distal phalanx, calcaneum….’

“It’s been….a real struggle…finding a place…” Sans voice pulls you out of your mind and back into the room. “A nice place that is… where myself, my brother,… and my friends can live.” 

You didn’t need Sans to explain what he meant by that. He wasn’t talking about the struggle of finding the ‘perfect' apartment, or some house with a white picket fence and a nice view. Since monsters resurfaced you had heard many stories about the horrible issues they faced as they integrated themselves into human society. Or, at least when they tried to. There was one news story in particular about a year ago where a monster teenager had been brutalized in their high school’s bathroom. Although they had been rushed to medical care the trauma had been too much and the young monster had died. You still remember the mother and father of the teen sobbing on TV, begging for help in finding the culprits who attacked their child. ‘Their only child.’ But as time passed they never found the responsible party. Despite the passionate promises of the school’s super intendant and the local police department. You highly doubted the aggressiveness of the investigation. Hate crimes against monsters were almost as common as weather reports and taken just as seriously. 

“I’m sorry.” You say. In your musings you had moved onto his other foot and were repeating the same process. 

“Me too.” Sans replies. His usually chipper voice carried weight with it. Quickly catching himself he clears his throat. “But, uh….I think we’ve finally found the place. The neighborhood is nice anyway.” 

You glide your hands up Sans right leg. Pressing down in firmer strokes you feel out for any damage to the right knee. You blow out a relived sigh at discovering this one wasn’t nearly as bad as the left one. The tickle torture would be brief. Sans is already squirming a little. His hands gripping the sheets over his chest. 

“Will it be just you and your loud brother in this fabled wonderful, new place?” You ask trying to distract him from the uncomfortable sensation. 

“Ah! Ha ha! Ye…yes. But our friends- Ha ha HA! Will.. uh HA ha…be close by…” Despite your best efforts Sans is writhing around on your massage table. He looks a bit like a fish out of water. You decide your work in this area was done and draw your hands away. The tingly feeling of his magic clings to you. 

“That will be nice.” You say, and you mean it. Rotating your hands, you prepare for the last part of the session. “Now I’m going to need you to turn over so I can have a look at that hot mess you call a spine.” 

“Hot you say?” Sans is grinning again. If he had eyebrows he probably would be waggling them at you like a stooge.

“Mess I meant.” You correct firmly. You are not smiling. You. Are. Not. Sans eyes take in the curve of your mouth and his grin widens. 

“Messes can be bone-loads of fun you know.” He says lightly, finally rolling himself over. The sheets stay on top of him. 

“No. Messes are messy.” You fire back not liking the way your stomach gives a little dance at Sans implication. 

“Maybe you could stand to be a little more messy.” Sans voice pitches down low. You say nothing back and walk over to the counter for your bottle of massage oil. Sans turns his head to watch you. He folds his hands under his boney cheek much like he had done to the back of his skull when you first came in the room. The very top of his back is exposed making him look vulnerable.

“I think I’m perfect just the way I am.” You say slowly. The reply is measured. It’s safe. You walk back to the top of the massage table. Sans eyes follow you, sweeping languidly over your expression and down to the tenseness of you stance. 

“Yeah, you got me there kiddo.” Sans chuckles and lets the mood lighten. A part of you is glad that he does. Another more confusing part isn’t. Your almost tempted to tell him you are no ‘kiddo’, but as the seconds tick by the moment of opportune sniping is lost. You graciously decide that the fruits of your labor were better spent on the miss-stacked curve that was Sans spine.

The rest of the massage is filled only with the sounds of your music, Sans occasional grateful sighs, and the clicking of bones as they are pressed back into their rightful places.

—————-

When you finish the massage you leave Sans in the room to collect himself, his borrowed robe, and fuzzy slippers. Aligning his spine had taken a great deal of effort. Your good hand aches while your bad one throbs painfully. It had been worth it to almost literally piece the skeletal monster back together again. When you finished you had told Sans that the ‘do not disturb sign’ on the counter was his to have. You had then made for the door, wanting to give Sans some privacy. Unexpectedly he had asked for you to wait a moment. You had paused and turned slightly back to look over at him. Sans had pushed himself up into a sitting position, the white sheet pooling and gathering around his waist. As you gazed back at him you let your eyes move along your handwork, taking in the perfectly set bones and aligned joints. He had murmured out a very sincere ‘thank you’. The light blue color of his magic gathering high on his cheek bones. You had been able to faintly make out the blue magic pulsating along his body and into his chest. The blue heart seemed to be pulsating quicker than usual. Although the moment was almost too intense for you, too something…You had met is glowing eyes and had said back just as sincerely ‘your welcome.’ For the first time since ‘the Daniel incident’ you felt truly happy. 

You make your way to the employee room once more, eyeing the clock as you go. Along with your hand brace, there was some aspirin in your locker you were hoping would sooth some of the pain in your wrist away. You still had five more sessions until the day was done. Entering the room you spot two massage therapists milling around near the back. ‘Jacob and Riley’ you think pleasantly. You give the pair a little wave. They smile back, but don’t break from their conversation. To your dismay you find your locker empty of any pain relievers. You vaguely recall pocketing your aspirin the day you went home after Daniel grabbed you. Vacantly, you stare into your mostly empt locker, gently rubbing the throbbing wrist. You could still feel rough, sausage like fingers wrapping around your arm and squeezing….and squeezing. The bones had rubbed together jarringly inside your wrist and hand. Your free hand had found it’s way to the fleshy meat of Daniel’s arm, nails digging in franticly. ‘Let go. Let. Go. LET GO OF ME. LET. GO. OF. ME.’ You had screamed, and he had yanked you so hard that you saw little red stars. 

“_____”? A familiar voice says softly behind you. Startled you turn around and see it’s Diana. Her face is tight with concern. Your eyes are wet, you quickly look away. “_____, are you ok? What’s wrong?!” Diana glides a warm hand over your shoulder blades. The sensation is so comforting you nearly cry. “What happened?” She presses insistently.

“Noth—-“ Your voice is thick, hastily you clear it. “Nothing… My wrist just hurts.” It wasn’t a complete lie. When you chance looking back up at your friend you can see she’s not buying what your selling. 

However, Diana wasn’t someone who would press you if she knew you really didn’t want her to. She must have seen this written on your face. After a good long look she relents and offers you some Tylenol from her little pink purse. The words of thanks tumble out of your mouth clumsy and desperate. As she digs around in the bottom of her purse, you retrieve your brace and slip it on. You still had some time before your next appointment and the brace was the best thing for resting your wrist. Victorious Diana pulls the red and white bottle from her bag, pills rattling around merrily inside the hollow plastic. You take the pills graciously and swallow them down with another cup of coffee, also curtsy of Diana. 

Usually you would see a client out to reception. However, since Sans was probably going to be a one time appointment…and because interacting with him was starting to make you feel inconvenient feelings…you chose to sit this one out. You did however watch from the other side of the massage section’s entry glass door as the group of monsters, plus the kid met back up in the lobby. The hallway behind you dim enough to obscure you. Each of them looked refreshed in their own way. Undyne’s posture was noticeably better and the hard lines that made up her body looked a little less ridged and a lot more relaxed. Diana really was a miracle worker of a masseuse. You could see that Toriel had been the mani-pedi appointment from her little, sparkly, lilac painted claws. She pressed a hand to her mouth, laughing charmingly at something the kid says. Speaking of which the kid’s skin was looking rather rosy and healthy. You can’t help letting out a little disbelieving laugh. The kid was the facial appointment! Undyne confirms this for you when she kneels down in front of the child and with a look of wonder. She gently pats their cheeks. The kid giggles and hides their face in Toriel’s long purple coat. 

Sans stands a little ways away from the group. Dressed back in his street clothes like Undyne. He seems to be half paying attention to his group, and half looking back toward the door you were standing behind. His white pupil lights glide around in his eye sockets. You would have been nervous that he could see you watching them had you not been startled many a time by another massage therapist coming through the glass door just as you approached it. Someone looking at the glass door from the lobby side would be completely unaware that there was a person just on the other side of the door. Regardless, Sans continues to stare at the door. Suddenly his right eye flashes blue and locks right onto you. It felt like a warm electric jolt was pressed into your lower stomach. In that moment you knew, somehow he could see you standing there like a total weirdo creeper. 

It should have been impossible, but as the sensation grew in your abdomen you were certain he was staring right at you. Sans looks at you for a long time, and you look right back, rooted in place. Slowly without breaking eye contact he reaches into his hoody pocket and pulls out a small wrapper. He holds it up for you to see, his boney hand level with the center of his chest. It looks like candy of some kind. Sans pinches the package, and out of it pops a small, blue ball. He grins at you and promptly pops the sphere into his mouth. Your eyes dart down to the floor expecting it to fall right through him, but it doesn’t. When your eyes travel back up, he is already turning towards the spa’s front door with his group of friends. The hand that held the candy is up and waving goodbye to you. The candy wrapper pinched between his pointer and middle finger. The odd scene left you completely bewildered, and as Sans disappears behind the front door the feeling in your stomach suddenly goes away. Immediately you take a few shaky steps back, breathing heavy. 

‘What the hell was that?!’ Your mind reels, your still walking backwards. The lobby becomes harder and harder to see as you draw away from the door and back into the hallway. Your back presses against a wall. ‘What was that feeling…? What was he doing?!’ 

You continue to stare at the glass door. Seconds tick by and then minutes. Eventually you let yourself pull away from the cool, hard surface. There wasn’t anyone in the hallway again, and again you are grateful. A few more moments slip by before you finally pick your way back towards your massage room. ‘I have more clients coming.’ Your mind helpfully supplies, all too happy to distract you from the distressing event. ‘I have a room to prepare…’ Quickly you run down a list of what you needed to do before you brought in the next client. Sans slowly, but surly becomes background noise in your thoughts. 

You twist the handle of your massage room door. Unthinkingly, you use your bad hand. With a startled intake of air you yank your hand away. The Tylenol didn’t seem to be working very well. The door glides open, heavy and silent. Clutching your wrist you step inside, using your hip to nudge to door closed again. After allowing your wrist to settle down into a dull ache you set about preparing the room for the next client. First you pause your iPod, and rearranging your massage oil bottles. You were just about to pull the crumpled, white sheets off of the massage bed to replace them with fresh ones, when you spot something poking out from a fold in one of the sheets. Tentatively you reach across the shallow mattress and pluck the mystery object from where it was half obscured. Pulling your hand back towards you, the small object comes to rested in your palm. You walk over to the light of a candle to identify it. It doesn’t take you very long to recognize what it is. Resting innocently in your palm was an identical candy to the one Sans had held up for you to see it in the lobby before popping it in his mouth. You stand there and stare at it for a long time.

 

—————-

It was snowing again when you leave the spa for the day. You gaze up sleepily at the dark sky. Snow flakes land on your cheeks and nose, little bursts of cold blossom on your skin as they melt. With a long sigh you shake your head and start for your car. Your wrist throbbing horribly from inside it’s brace. Frowning you know you probably shouldn’t come in tomorrow, but there were bills to be paid, and mouthes to feed. Well… just yours and your cat’s mouth but still! It had been fortunate that a client had cancelled on you mid day, the reprieve had given your hand and wrist a much needed break. Reaching your car, you fumble clumsy and exhausted for your keys. From inside your pocket the candy Sans left for you presses into your leg when you bump against the side of your car door. Ignoring it, you jam your key into the lock. You open the car door and loaf yourself inside. Your car wasn’t the nicest of vehicles, but it had four wheel drive, and got you where you needed to go which is all you really care about. The car was silver in color, and reliable as a old friend. Yes sir, ‘Sebastian’ got the job done. You got the name for your car from the saucy, small, red crab in ‘The Little Mermaid.’ 

For a long period of time you sit in your car without strapping in, or turning your key in the ignition. You enjoy the simple pleasure of being able to sit down for the first time all day, and savor the silence. Absently your fingers run over the hard lump inside your pocket. You stare out the windshield and into the darkness, mind numb. For what must be the hundredth time that day you carefully pull the candy out of your pocket and examine it like it was some rare bug. The wrapper was harmless enough, it had a company logo on it, although the letterforms were intelligible and was most likely in monster speak. Just beneath the logo was a sappy smiling face of a child monster giving you a thumbs up. On top of the monster’s head was a cartoon bandage. Over the course of your shitty day, and after many inspections of said candy, you had come to the brilliant conclusion that this was probably some kind of medicine for monster children. The wrapper and shape of the medicine cleverly disguising it to look like candy. Much like the gummy vitamins parents would slip their kids before school, tricking them into good nutrition. Why Sans had made a show of woofing one down in the lobby was anyone’s guess. Although you had a small nagging feeling that he was trying to show you the candy medicine was ‘A okay’! You recall the way he looked down at your mangled wrist, his boney fingers gently running along the tender flesh. Your fingers pinch at the candy inside the wrapper. You were so terribly curious. What did monster candy taste like? Was it medicine and could it make you feel better? Does monster medicine even work on humans? Or, would the candy make you really sick? What if it was a drug, some kinda monster roofie and Sans was lurking somewhere near by? You press the lock button on your car, the ‘kur-chunk’ of the locking mechanism comforted the thought away. 

You always prided yourself on being a brave, and sometimes stubborn asshole of a person. With another particularly painful spasm of your bad wrist, you tear open the wrapper and press the hard candy into your mouth. You crumple the wrapper in your hand. Slowly you roll the little, round candy around inside your mouth. A surprised breath escapes your nose. The candy is absolutely delicious. It fills your mouth with a sweet warm sensation that warps languidly around your tongue. A sensation not unlike Sans magic. It slides it’s way down your throat and floods your whole body with a glowing, tingly feeling. You lean back in your car seat and watch the snow fall outside feeling a little overwhelmed. A minute passes and your still not dead, drugged, or kidnapped. Figuring it was ok to start home, you slot the candy between your teeth, and turn the key in the ignition. Your car hums happily to life. Flicking on your headlights you switch the car into gear and start home. Your bad hand holds on to the wheel, guiding it as surly and smoothly as your good one. 

It’s not until much later, and after you were inside your apartment that you notice the pain in your wrist is completely gone. The realization dawning on you as you hold a heavy bag of cat food in your ‘bad’ hand while the other hand works the bag open. Mr. Buttons yowls up at you pitifully from the kitchen floor. It was as if he had been wasting away for weeks. You nearly drop the bag right on top of him when your lack of pain dawns on you. Luckily you catch the bag just in time with your formally injured hand. Quickly, you dole out some grub to shut your cat up. You set down the bag hastily and bring your wrist up to your face in wonder. Gingerly you take off the brace. The flesh beneath it isn’t swollen, or bruised anymore. It still was a little red, but with a few tentative stretches it seemed like your wrist was almost completely healed! You head into your bedroom dazed with amazement. Mr.Buttons ignores you as you leave, too busy scarfing down precious food to behold a miracle. You sit cross-legged on your bed. You can’t seem to stop yourself from running your fingers over the skin on your healed wrist and grinning.

——————

It was early in the morning when abruptly a loud ‘thudding’ sound echoes through your bedroom. The origin of the noise coming from the apartment next to your own. Stirring from your delicious pain free sleep, you open your eyes blearily to glare at the shared wall. Another ‘clunk’ing sound mocks you as you do. You twist around in your heavy blankets to see what time it was. The red electric numbers on your digital clock read ‘6:30am’. You didn’t have to be up for another hour. Stubbornly you flop back down into your mattress and squeeze your eyes shut. Praying for silence. 

‘BANG’! ‘Thud’. ‘THUD’! ‘SMASH’!

Your eyes slide back open. Life was suffering. The world was a pit of despair and disappointment.

‘Clunk…CLUNK….clunk….BAM’!!

“FUCK. ME!!” You snarl and toss a pillow at the wall. Your cat picks his head up to look at you. His yellow eyed stare unimpressed and unsympathetic. Mr. Buttons curls back up into a ball fur at the foot of your bed and goes back to sleep. The apartment next to you had been empty for two months. Two beautiful, glorious months where you had been blessed with silence. Unfortunately, it would seem the apartment manager found someone new to move in. And these asshats were LOUD. ‘Who the flippin’ fuck moves in at 6:30 AM?!’ You think, pressing your palms into your eyes and rubbing. 

‘CLANG’! ‘WHUMP’!! ‘BANG’! 

Defeated you get up. Sleep was now an absolute impossibility. You shuffle your way into your bathroom to take a long hot shower to wake yourself up, and to improve your dismal mood. Soaping up your hair with both hands, you smile with gratefulness that your wrist and hand didn’t hurt at all. The skin completely back to it’s normal color. Stepping out of the shower you briskly towel yourself off. The cold bathroom floor tiles leech away hungrily at the warmth in your feet. You get dressed, and make a humble breakfast for yourself of cereal. You hasn't been to the grocery store for some time. 

‘I’ll go tonight after work…’ You think, selecting your work outfit for the day. Pausing mid reach towards a maroon sweater top you happily snap your fingers. ‘Or better yet I’ll go to the Wednesday farmers market!’ You hum happily. Wednesdays were your mid week day off. You also had Saturday and Sundays off. It was important for massage therapists to rest their hands and wrists. Back when you first started at the Spa you had tried to work six days a week. This only lasted for a few months. The overexertion and strain on your body had put you out of commission for five days, and even after that it took you a long time to completely get your strength back. The banging next door continues all through your morning ritual. Mr.Buttons was completely oblivious to it. You envied your cat. Ready for your day you head to the apartment’s front door. You notice your hand brace on the coffee table in front of the couch. Happily you ignore it, grabbing your keys, and coat, you open your door. 

Only to be met with a wall of boxes….

You stand there and stare at the impressive blockade. You weren’t completely trapped, but it will be awkward stuffing through the narrow passageways the stacked boxes made. Peeking around you could see that they filled most of the hallway. All varying in size. Some boxes had lazily scrawled words on them that were completely intelligible, while others clearly read ‘PAPYRUS’ on them in bold sweeping letterforms. 

‘What the hell is a Papyrus?’ You wonder, eyeing the boxes warily. You were already making up your mind that not only were your new neighbors LOUD, but also weird. You shimmy around a few stacks carefully, slowly but surly making your way to the stairs. Your back and front rubbing against the cardboard intruders. One box was slightly open revealing a horde of strange looking action figures. ‘Make that really weird…’ You think, frowning.

“YOUR JUST SO LAZY!” Came a shrill, loud voice from belwoe the stairs you were just about to walk down. You briefly consider going back inside your apartment to avoid your unsavory new neighbors, but you weren’t quick enough. Over the crest of the stairs and carrying a towering load of boxes, yes more boxes if that was possible, was a very tall skeleton….man…? “HONESTLY I DO ALL THE WORK AROUND HERE, YOU LAZY BONES!”

‘Another skeleton monster?’ You think hazily. ‘What are the chances of tha-‘

“What can I say? I’m between a box and a hard spot.” Replied another voice further down the stairs. A horribly familiar voice….”You should take it easier bro, your going to work yourself to the bone.”

“SANS, NO!” Groans the tall skeleton. You almost groan with him. It can’t be….IT CAN’T!

“Sans, yes.” Came the deep voice again. 

To your horror, up the stairs and into the hallway, walks Sans. Clad in the same blue hoody you had seen him in the day before. However, today he opted for black sweatpants and purple sneakers. He was carrying a small shoe box, and had yet to take notice of you. On the box was a very crudely drawn picture of a ketchup bottle, and another bad drawing of a ‘thumbs up’ hand next to it. Sans slowly turns from the taller, heroically dressed skeleton to the boxes littering the hallway. His pinprick pupil eyes searching for the perfect place to set down his treasure. He freezes suddenly when his eyes lock onto you. Your still sandwiched in-between two stacks of large boxes. You stare back like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

Sans looks from you to your apartment door right next to theirs. His expression slowly stretches into one of unnerving glee.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are loved!! :D


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